Absence of Light
by Carolare Scarletus
Summary: Draco Malfoy was given a ring owned by his late grandfather, and one cold night, he learns the true nature of the journey he's about to embark on. Dark secrets lay within his past, but will he be able to break tradition and keep his wits about him, or will he succumb to the same fate of his ancestors before him? Dark!Draco; AU/HeadCanon.


**Important:** Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments).

 **House:** Slytherin

 **Class:** Lineage Studies: What is in a Name?

 **Assignment: Task 1** ; Write about an object that has been passed through at least three generations of a family. (This can be canon or made up.) Restriction; no using Harry's Invisibility cloak.

 **Genre:** Supernatural; Angst

 **Word count:** **3120** (Excluding Author's Note, but including entire Entry and Title)

 **Warning:** This is an AU (Alternate Universe).

 **Characters:** (Main Characters are listed Alphabetically by last name.) Draco Malfoy; Lucius Malfoy

 **Summary:** Draco Malfoy was given a ring owned by his late grandfather, and one cold night, he learns the true nature of the journey he's about to embark on. Dark secrets lay within his past, but will he be able to break tradition and keep his wits about him, or will he succumb to the same fate of his ancestors before him?

Dark!Draco; AU/HeadCanon.

 **Author's Note:** If I ever continue this, it will be a very dark piece focusing on Draco Malfoy's journey as Lord Voldemort, who isn't introduced as a traditional character in the Canon World of Harry Potter and his thoughts during his trial after taking the Dark Mark. Let me know what y'all think! It will be a while before I can come back to this, though.

As always, enjoy.

-Carolare Scarletus

* * *

 **Absence of Light**

* * *

"Draco, you must understand what I'm about to tell you isn't for the faint of heart. There have been many unspeakable actions that came from owning this ring; people have gone mad with lust and power, losing themselves in the endless depth of this piece. It hurts me to have to tell you about our history, but I believe that it is time that you knew because the creature we serve will eventually mark you as well."

Draco Malfoy stood in front of the portrait, eyeing the motionless painting of his late grandfather as he waited for some celestial force to bring him back to life. He'd lost him not too long ago to an illness that threatened to expose their family and all their secrets. Draco was no stranger to secrecy and lies; he found himself perpetuating the exact lies and deception he was too naïve to believe during his youth.

"Draco." a familiar voice whispered behind him.

Slowly, he turned and met the neutral expression of Lucius. He stood several feet away, his long elegant hair draped over his left shoulder. He wore very expensive black robes, matching trousers and dress shoes. Standing behind him with a passive expression was a man Draco had never seen before. He examined him remarkably fast, tearing away his bravado and superiority in one sweep of his darkening eyes.

A disgusting smirk appeared on his face. "Father," he hissed, stepping into the room, not caring about the audience he received from the men who sat lounging on Lucius's chairs and sofas. He paid no attention to them; his target was his father who seemed to have caught onto his advancement. Wracked with utter fear, he backed away from him. As he walked blindly back into his office, Draco continued to advance towards him, a twisted grin spreading across his face. Something dark flashed across his eyes. The impending demonstration of his newly found source of power caused a horrible shift to spread through the large room. "What wrong, Father? Too terrified to speak," a deep, unrecognizable voice asked him.

"Not at all," his words seemed taunting. Draco hissed at that as he took one giant step forward only to have something strong and unyielding to grip him by the shoulders. He tried to move, but with each struggling twist, the bindings around him tightened until he could only stand and observe his father and his acquaintance.

"What a pity," Lucius said with a tinge of amusement. "I was so looking forward to the destructive power of our ancestors." He walked forward until he was standing adjacent to his son. He was only seven inches shorter than his son, but he felt incredibly small against his muscular and tall frame. Lucius slowly took in his badly deformed body. Smiling with perfect content, he turned back to the layout that he prepared for the ritual. "It seems the awakening is finally starting."

"Awakening," he tested the words, trying to see behind him but the bindings would not allow him to crane his head enough to look over his shoulder.

"Yes," he said. "I was beginning to fear if the awakening would ever happen. I'm pleased that it's progressed this far. Allow me to ask, though. How were the images of your forgotten passed, my son?"

Draco thrashed wildly against the bindings around his body, the anger spiking again. He had walked into the room for vengeance until he was momentarily preoccupied with the parchment and twin blades. He retaliated against the bindings until the snapped against the powerful force of his unwillingness to submit.

A dark chuckle erupted deep from his chest," You are one sick bastard, father," he declared. "And, you want to know something?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son's sudden declaration and the words he was about to express.

"I am going to enjoy inflicting the same torment you bestowed upon me."

"Sedate him!" He croaked, taking desperate breaths of air as his throat slowing closed off. He could feel the heat of not having enough oxygen reaching his lungs rise in his cheeks. Why was Draco being so kind and not ending his life? Perhaps, it was the single ounce of human that still remained inside the fibred of his being that made him a bit hesitant to end someone's life. He had felt so much pain during his childhood; he wanted to return the favor.

"I bet you never thought of choking your own son the same way you have choked your wife," Draco grunted. A dark storm of grey flashed in his eyes. Lucius clawed at the impressive grip that his son had on his throat before his hands released its hold. He fell to the ground, taking in giant heaps of air. Looking up, he met the infuriated gaze of his son. "Has the thought ever crossed your mind, father?"

The man who had appeared to tell him the devastating news moved to help him, but Draco stopped him at once.

"Do not help him." He instructed, his eyes shooting daggers at both men who had risen to aid his father. "He is beyond help, beyond redemption. What he has done cannot be atoned for, and you will not step in to assist him. This is between my father and me, understood?" Draco eyed both of them before a grin formed on his lips. "You can try to stop me, but I am afraid it would be more than a waste of time. Step in and I will take your lives without delay."

The individual his father had been conversing with did not falter underneath his strong, unyielding gaze. A flash of worry swept over him. Other than that, he did not speak but moved to sit down on the sofa. He kept a careful on both of them.

"How about you?" Draco asked the other blazingly.

He murmured something underneath his breath. Draco turned and approached him. Lucius stopped him just in time.

"Your queries do not extend beyond my reach, son. Do not involve innocent people in this matter."

"Like you have involved innocent people in whatever you are involved in?" Draco asked bitterly, turning to face the older man that had taken enough of air to replenish his body. Slowly, he watched the decrepit old man stand, his back slightly hunched. The effects of aging were amorously evident; Draco smirked at the sight of his father, who had been on the ground before him as he tried to gather himself the best he could. Soon, he would have him back on the floor. This time, for good. "Tell me, father. What is it that you were doing to those poor defenseless creatures that we call Muggles? What could you possibly have gain by dwindling their numbers?"

"You heard?" he asked in a whisper.

"Of course I heard." Draco sneered. "I heard every word of your sick speech. What I cannot understand is why you did it. Enlighten me, why did you orchestrate these attacks? What was there to gain from killing these innocent people?"

"Innocent people," he scoffed. "These worthless creatures do not deserve an ounce of our sympathy, Draco. We were brought up to believe that Muggles and Mudbloods are nothing but filthy beings that should be grateful that they are alive. You ask as if this is something unheard of. Has your perspective changed?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "It may have," he told him truthfully.

"You have no shame in what your own heart has created?" He asked in astonishment. "Do you have no morals? No supremacy? If your great-great-grandfather were alive to today he would no doubt be ashamed of what his descendant has turned into- a muggle loving lunatic."

"You should be the one feeling shameful, you bastard." Draco snarled, stepping dreadfully close to his father. More magic began to swirl around him. Unfortunately, he had to calm himself down so that he could continue to converse with his father. "You have no shame in what you have done. The lives of helpless individuals have been taken, and for what? So that you could have the satisfaction of knowing that there is one less Muggle or Mudblood to worry about." He paused, a twisted sneer appearing on his young, flawless face. "You disgust me, father."

Lucius grounded himself, his eyes blaring with rage as he took in his son's words. He tried the best he could to analyze them. Failing, he turned to the only source of comfort and acknowledgment he had: the painting that Draco had the misfortune of discovering while exploring his study.

"Who was she?" Draco dared to ask.

Lucius snapped his attention immediately to his son. He was surprised that the conversation retreated back to the private briefing with one of his fellow followers. Draco advanced towards him, allowing his magic to radiate out of his body in a hazy veil of arms. Staggering backward, he watched as the magic snapped at his feet, warning him before he had the chance to speak.

"You are not in the position to-"

"Who was she?" He tried again. "Tell me. Who was this girl you sent your darling pet to kill?"

Lucius cautiously stepped backward, reaching behind him to steady himself as his feet threatened to fail. "Hardly anyone you associate with, Draco. She is not important; never has been, and never will be. I assure you, you will most likely be pleased to know that her life is no more once school begins. I am sure the students, as well as the teacher, will start the school year mourning her death."

"You didn't-" he began, choking on his own words. His throat tightened as unreleased tears collected in his tear ducts. There was no way- no way that he sent that fucking beast to kill her. "You didn't!"

"Oh, but I did." Lucius almost sniggered in victory.

He strode over to the inanimate painting of his late great-grandfather with adoration. A respectable man shined in his eyes, but all Draco saw was an abomination of a man and a despicable human being. He may not have known Cepheus Malfoy personally, but the impression of him was all the same. He gave his ancestors lived, which eventually lead to his own creation. Was he grateful? He did not know. All he knew is that he loathed the man that stood before him with his hunched back facing him. "Our family did not always hate Muggles," he told his son. "It wasn't until after the change that he began seeing them in a different way. He taught his son Septimus the same thing. This hatred, it may as well be amalgamated into our blood. It's been such a long-standing implement that it's only natural of us to think that anyone below us is not worthy."

He turned to face the opaque expression of his son. Carefully, he took in the condition of the once fragile boy he had the pleasure of taking and making the necessary improvements. Lucius smiled at his creation. Fondness swept over him. Despite the news that he had told him, or should he say, acquired almost on his own, Draco was fairly calm. Inside, he knew, there was burning fire that wanted nothing more to be unleashed.

"Soon, my son, you will also bear the hatred of these filthy things as well as the mark placed so honorably upon our left sleeve. Soon, you will bear the mark with pride-"

"Never," Draco hissed venomously. "I will never bear whatever ridiculous mark you fabricated. You may have those little followers of yours fooled, but you will not fool me. I will not submit to this thing that dwells inside me!"

Lucius laughed at his declaration. The room was soon filled with three different octaves of laughter. The two others had joined in with his amusement. Draco glared at them, allowing his magic to lash out threateningly at them. They both shut their mouths at once to the dense magic that snapped at them like leather whips.

"Whether or not you take it willingly is no concern of mine," Lucius dismissed as if his own son's opinion did not matter. Disregarding Draco entirely, he turned back unhurriedly to the portrait of his great-grandfather. "They always do. Eventually, they succumbed to whatever demon that dwells within them. Either too tired to fight or too greedy. There was always something that caused them to pursue the darkness. However, it all started with a seemingly unambiguous deed that ruined your great-great-grandfather. His ruin had cursed our family even more than it already was. His decision to seek the guidance and help for his adoring wife sealed our Fates."

Swiftly, he turned back to his son, and for once he allowed years of perfected concealment to slip. He stood before Draco, presenting himself in the deplorable state that all men and women who sought this power eventually molded into. Weakened from immeasurable years of his own torment and torture, he stood before his son

"We were never always like this, my son. We had been a noble, revered family for centuries. Our family held some very notable men and women, individuals who provided more to Wizarding History than anyone would want to admit. We were once praised for our work, but as the centuries flew by, our name had lost the title it once had. We were no longer revered for all the glorious attributes we had made to History, but for the things we inexplicably found ourselves involved in. It wasn't anyone's fault for tainting our blood but ours. Our family had ruined the status we had worked so hard to procure. Now, we are paying for those consequences."

"If we weren't always like this, then what caused the drastic changed. What made us into what we are today? Tell me." Draco commanded with urgency.

Lucius turned back to the portrait and inhaled sharply. The adoration for the deceased man completely vanished from his eyes and was replaced with curiosity and hurt. Above all else, the inquiry was the brightest star that flickered within his eyes. It was as if he were trying to get the portrait to move so that he could speak to him ask why-why did he do all those things, why he felt that he had no other choice but to seek out unreliable and dangerous guidance from someone he did not know. Draco was just as anxious to know as his father.

Both men gazed upon the once distinguished man. Lucius was the one to speak first. "Cepheus Malfoy was a nobleman." He told him quietly. "Still is, despite the atrocious things he had done in his later years. However, that is not where his story begins. It begins with his childhood; he had been raised with almost the same beliefs as the ones today. During the seventeenth century, the Wizarding World was on the threshold of merging our world with the Muggle world. This synchronization of both worlds was supposedly going to form some sort of alliance with one another, create a more integrated union. Little did they know, it would backfire on them? A century later, around 1730, during the time when Britain was starting to colonize America, Muggle-born immigrants began to flood into the newly cultivated grounds of a new world. King George II, under the instruction of the Minister of Magic during that era, had agreed, but under one condition. He was highly aware of and involved with the Wizarding World; several of his own relatives had been involved with Wizarding government and politics, all hailing from some very reputable families. In exchange for allowing the Muggle-borns to escape the increasing tyranny of the Wizarding World, he wanted their assistance when the time awarded it.

Slowly, Draco walked over to his father. The entire speech had taken a huge physical and emotional toll on him. Clearly, he had spent countless hours researching their family history, finding nothing at all and hitting constant dead ends. How long did he spend locked up in the Manor's private library, flipping through books after books and finding absolutely nothing? Draco had done the same; he did not find a damn thing that would explain the overwhelming episodes of magic. It had been a risky thing to do, obviously. However, he had done it out of pure curiosity. He wanted to understand, needed to clear the opaque waters of his mind and history. Was that too much to want and ask for? No, he concluded. He had done what he needed to do.

"The mark," Draco began cautiously, not knowing how well his question would take with his father now that he shared everything he probably knew about their family with him. "This alliance. Why was it formulated in the first place? Who is our family destined to serve for all eternity?"

Lucius turned his head towards the general direction of his son. "We serve something incredibly powerful, Draco." He told him softly. "We could not fight it. If it wanted us to torture, someone, we did it. If it wanted us to kill someone, we did with no questions asked. Those who fought it were severely punished. Anyone who did not do its bidding exactly how he wanted was punished as well."

"Who is this 'it' you speak of?" Draco insisted angrily. He was growing tired of his father speaking of some unseen thing as 'it' when it clearly was something more. "What did you mean he could not fight it? Did he not have a full grip on himself and his reality?" When Lucius did not speak Draco screamed," Tell me!"

Lucius did not speak. Instead, he turned to his son with pain. "I cannot tell you that."

"Cannot or will not?" he sneered. "If you cannot tell me about what entity that forces you to do its bidding, then at least tell me about the mark an alliance."

It was as if the heavens opened up. A strong light had broken through the impenetrable barrier of his eyes. A smile slowly formed upon his lips. This, it seemed, had been what he was waiting for all along and it was for him to inquire about the mark and alliance he made with its creator.

Lucius turned away from the portrait. Silence fell upon them as Draco tried to take in his great great-grandfather's tragic history. Consequently, he had not done any sort of research prior to this unfortunate night. He did not know a single thing about the man who had somehow changed his descendants' fates with a mere decision. It was amazing how one decision could change everything.


End file.
